The Proposal (33 page)

Large windows allowed a stunning view of a valley to the north, and a smattering of sunlight cast a glow on shelves of books and keepsakes.

“It’s a wonderful room,” Marianne said after some minutes. The tears had slowed, and all was quiet. Jennings had taken a chair nearby as the sofa was full.

“He read to us here,” Thomas said. “Almost every night.”

“What did he read to you?” Jennings asked.

“Many poems and plays, and always a verse from the Bible.”

“He let Penny have a corner of his desk,” James filled in.

“Right there.” Penny pointed to the nearest one.

“What did you do there?”

“I had paper like Papa. I wrote numbers.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine for Jennings or Marianne. Jennings did the paperwork for his own estate, and Marianne had watched her father for years.

A servant stepped into the doorway just then—it was Murch—and all five of them looked up.

“Excuse me, sir. Mrs Murch has refreshments if anyone is thirsty,” he offered.

Jennings turned to Thomas.

“What do you think, Thomas?”

“I’ll show you the way,” he said with his usual show of maturity. When he came to his feet, the rest of the group followed.

They ate, visited some, and had a tour of Morehouse. Then Jennings and Marianne were shown their rooms. Supper was served several hours later, a fairly light meal, before Jennings suggested they make an early night of it. It was over breakfast the next morning that the real conversation began.

“I think the three of you should go through the house and choose things you want to have with you at Thornton Hall,” Jennings said at the first meal on their second day. “You arrived in London with little more than the clothing on your backs, and you might wish to have certain things— even your beds if you like these better.”

It was obvious that Thomas and his siblings had not thought of this, but the idea appeared to please all of them.

“There are some items I would wish to have,” Thomas said. “I don’t think I could stand to see the house bare, but an item or two would be rather nice.”

“Is my dollhouse too big?” Penny asked.

“I’m sure not, Penny. We can arrange for that if you like.”

The table fairly buzzed with talk after that. While the children discussed items of interest, Jennings turned to Marianne.

“Do you think you could go along with Penny this morning and make a list of what she wants? I’ll have the boys start their own lists—I might even go with James—and we’ll look them over after lunch.”

“I’d be happy to. Do you want me to steer her in any particular direction?”

“I think not. I want to know what she wants. If we need to trim the lists before the end of the day, that’s fine.”

“Very well. We’ll do our best.”

They did not linger over breakfast. All three children were eager to get started.

“Well, Miss Penny,” Marianne said when they were alone in the dining room, “where would you like to start?”

“Upstairs.”

“Lead the way.”

Marianne had said this in a lighthearted manner, unaware of how serious Penelope Jennings felt about this first item. The two entered a bedroom, a masculine room with almost no frills. The room’s furnishings could only be termed practical. Over the dresser, directly across from the bed, hung a portrait. Penny stopped before it.

“I want this.”

Marianne could only stare.

“Who is it, Penny?”

“It’s my mother.”

For the first time Marianne understood why Penny often stared at her. The resemblance was not perfect, but very distinct. For a moment Marianne couldn’t say anything, and during this silence, they heard James and Jennings come down the hall.

“This way,” James said as he walked in. “Oh, hello, Penny. I thought you might put Mother’s portrait on your list. I was coming to add it to mine.”

Now it was Jennings’ turn to stare. He looked at the woman who had given birth to Thomas, James, and Penny and then to Marianne. There was no missing the similarity.

“Did you know?” Jennings asked her.

“Not until a few seconds ago.”

“Have we never told you?” James asked Marianne.

“I’m sure I would have remembered, James. Penny stared at me rather intently when we first met, and while I wondered why, I never figured on this.”

“Well, I’m glad you both want it,” Jennings said. “We’ll hang it in Thornton Hall wherever you choose.”

This statement was greeted with smiles before the partners went on, James with Jennings and Penny with Marianne. Both pairs took notes and debated about various items. Penny cried when she saw her father’s shoes, but her eyes were dry when the children were once again in their father’s study. Nevertheless, they all crowded close and looked at the desk chair.

“The room would be awful without it,” James proclaimed. “I want to remember it here.”

“As do I,” Thomas added, putting his oar in.

Penny looked uncertain but said nothing.

Marianne felt a rescue was needed.

“Is there another item, Penny, here on the desk or in the room, that would give you a special memory?”

Almost immediately Penny’s eyes landed on her father’s pens and inkstand. Just moments later they were added to the list. The boys also chose items from their father’s study— a map for James, and a picture, one that had always hung over the fireplace, for Thomas. By the time they had settled on these items, it was nearly time for lunch.

Lists in hand, they gathered around the table for that meal—excitement evident on every face—with questions as to how the items would get to Thornton Hall.

“I’ll make the arrangements tomorrow, and then we’ll leave the next day,” Jennings told them. “If you think of something else, just inform me, but don’t feel panicked that you might be leaving something special behind. We can visit again, and if that won’t work, we can always write Murch and describe the item you want. Once arrangements are made, it might take a few weeks until things arrive, but it will feel like Christmas when they do.

“And don’t forget,” Jennings tagged onto the end, “we’ll be accompanying the Palmers to London for school clothes not long after we arrive back. Maybe by the time we return from London, your Morehouse possessions will have arrived.”

The children were very excited about all of this, and a bit of coaxing was needed to get James and Penny to eat.

“I have to make sure all the doll furniture is inside” was one of Penny’s reasons for not wanting very much of her food, but Jennings stepped in.

“You have to be able to think clearly so nothing is forgotten, Penny, and you can’t do that if you don’t eat properly. I’ll ask Murch to get you a box so all the furniture can be packed securely, but I won’t do that until I see that you’ve eaten.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. James, you’re looking a bit distracted as well. Work on your meal.”

That child nodded, pulling his eyes from the list next to his plate and reaching for his fork.

Jennings reached for his fork as well, but before he could eat he caught it again. When he looked up, Marianne’s eyes were just leaving him. Before she dropped her gaze, however, he saw her eyes filled with approval.

“Will you read me a story?” Penny asked of Marianne that night at bedtime.

“I would love to read you a story, Penny. What shall we read and where shall we read it?”

Penny went for a fat volume on her bedroom shelf and then surprised Marianne by taking her hand and leading her downstairs. She went to her father’s study.

“Penny, are you certain that you wish to read in here?”

The little girl nodded, and Marianne went to the sofa they had snuggled on just the day before. She opened the book and began to read, her soft voice very soothing to the little girl tucked under her arm.

In less than five minutes James joined them. He sat on Marianne’s other side and listened, his eyes gazing across the room with an occasional glance at the page. Penny looked at the drawings whenever the page included one, but in less than twenty minutes her small head was limp against Marianne.

“Shall I finish this chapter, James? Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please.”

Not until Marianne smiled at him did she realize they were being watched. She looked up to find Jennings in the doorway. He stood still and watched her. As their eyes locked, Marianne couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been standing there. For several long moments she couldn’t look away. Thankfully James’ shifting was enough to put her back on task. She read the page she was on before glancing up again to find the doorway empty. With her mind only half on the story, she finished the chapter as James wished her to do.

They would head for Collingbourne directly after breakfast in the morning. The day had been full of activities as official lists were filled out and someone was hired to move the items, but now the stories had been read, the children were sleeping, and the house was quiet. Nevertheless, Marianne could not rest. It had done so much for her to see where the children had been born. They had chosen wonderful items to follow them to Thornton Hall, and in the course of the hours spent at Morehouse, they had shared many things with both Marianne and Jennings.

Marianne, still not ready for bed, found she needed one last glimpse of the study that was so dear to them. She descended the stairs, her feet quiet, and sought out the beloved room. With a full moon shining in through the large windows, she needed no lantern. The moonlight bounced off of nearly every surface, and when she had looked her fill, she went to the windows and looked out on the moon-washed valley. She didn’t know how long she had been standing there when she heard a sound behind her. Jennings stood just inside the room.

“Restless?” he asked as he moved to join her.

“A little,” Marianne admitted, her gaze going back outside. “I wanted to be in this room one more time because it’s so important to the children.”

“I had the same thoughts. I feel that I know so much more about them than I did before.”

For a time they stood in silence, enjoying the view, not needing words.

“Miss Walker, will you marry me?”

Marianne turned, her face showing her surprise, but no words came forth.

“Our situation was not the same the first time I asked you,” Jennings continued, his eyes watchful of the profile that had been turned to him. “I understand fully why you had to decline, and although my faith is new, it’s most genuine. I know the children love you, and your kindness with them is beyond compare. I would wish for you to partner with me in raising Thomas, James, and Penny.”

“Oh, Mr Jennings,” Marianne began, still not able to look at him as every move of her hands showed how flustered she felt. “I’m not sure you realize how swiftly time moves. Penny’s just turned seven!” She said this as though the child in question was closing in on thirty. “In such a short time she’ll be ten and then fifteen. If she retains even a fraction of her loveliness, you’ll be sending suitors away day and night, but one will come along and she’ll be gone, and then you’ll be in possession of a wife you no longer need.” Marianne had yet to look at him and still did not when she shook her head in a definitive fashion. “I must say no, Mr Jennings. I must spare you from a trap you can’t even see.”